


Between The Spaces

by mardia



Category: Sports Night
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-18
Updated: 2010-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan's just trying to keep it together, and Casey's just trying to find his way out. Written for the prompt, "Stark raving sane," and the hawkfromhandsaw challenge on Livejournal. Dan/Casey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between The Spaces

After the noon rundown, Dan spends twenty minutes in the bathroom puking. When he comes out of the stall, Jeremy's there, face sad and solemn. The bruising on his face is still there, a sharp contrast against his fair skin. His arm's still in a sling.

"Ate some bad sushi last night," Dan says. His voice is hoarse and he wishes he had a toothbrush.

Jeremy just nods and doesn't try to stop Dan when he leaves.

 

*

_Casey is sitting on a park bench, watching Dan and Charlie play catch. The sun is bright against his face, and Danny keeps glancing over to smile at him._

"Hey, Casey," he shouts out at last. "Get your lazy butt over here."

Casey smiles and tries, but he can't move his legs. He stares down at them for a moment, perplexed, then looks back up. "I can't," he says.

Dan tilts his head, then nods sharply. "Alright, then, guess we'll just have to come over there. Won't we, Charlie?"

Charlie nods, grinning, but Casey already knows they won't make it.

 

*

Isaac spends more time in their office than in his own. He says it's because no one will think to look for them here, but Dan knows that's a lie. "There are glass walls, Isaac, it's kind of hard to hide in this place," he points out.

Isaac just laughs. "Haven't you ever read The Purloined Letter? The best place to hide is in plain sight."

Dan doesn't mind the company. He writes better with Isaac around, anyway.

After his second trip to the bathroom that day, Isaac just says gently, "Maybe you should give Abby a call."

Dan doesn't want to, but he does anyway.

 

*

_He's in a rundown meeting, nothing too unusual. There are the usual jokes and banter, Dana trying to keep order and failing miserably. _

But there's this odd...beeping noise. It's quiet at first, but the more Casey tries to ignore it, the louder it gets, until it's all he can hear.

He leans in and whispers quietly in Danny's ear, "Hey, do you hear that?"

Dan looks over at him, bemused. "Hear what?"

"That beeping noise."

Danny shrugs, but then Casey figures out where it's coming from--his new watch. Must be an alarm. He pushes a few buttons, but the beeping continues.

And then he finally figures out what's wrong with the beeping. The rhythm's off. Or rather, not off but familiar, and that's when Casey realizes his heart is beating at the same slow, steady pace.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

 

*

"I can only visit him in the mornings," Dan tells Abby. "Visiting hours are long over by the time I get finished with the show, and..." He trails off. "His parents are in town, you know, so they spend a lot of time with him."

Abby nods. "Do you feel like you spend a lot of time with him?"

Dan takes a breath before he answers. "Not as much as I'd like to, but as I said--my schedule's pretty crazy."

"You can't take some time off?" They both already know what the answer is. "I'm sure Issac would understand."

They just stare at each other for a moment, and there are so many things on the tip of Dan's tongue, and here's the kicker—he knows that Abby could guess most of them, would understand them, understand him—and he still can't say them anyway.

Abby keeps her voice gentle and soft, and asks, "You haven't asked Issac for some time off, have you?"

Dan thinks to himself that it's not really a question if you already know the answer.

When he leaves half an hour before their session is supposed to end, Abby doesn't look at all surprised.

 

*

_"Packers vs. Vikings, and the Norsemen take a solid beating from the Cheeseheads..." The studio lights are hot against his face, and Casey's sweating underneath his suit. _

All of a sudden, Natalie's voice is in his ear. "Casey, come on. What are you doing here?"

He tries not to react, because they're on air, but he has no idea what Natalie's talking about. Mercifully, the camera's just moved onto Danny now, so he can shoot a bewildered look into the lens, knowing they'll see it in the control room.

"You need to wake up, Casey."

Conducting a conversation while having no idea of what's going on is an occupational hazard of working at Sports Night, but this time Casey really and truly does not have a clue.

Thank God, they go on a commercial break. "Natalie," Casey finally asks, "--what the hell are you talking about?"

But Natalie just keeps going on. "You need to snap out of this, Casey, all right? Chop chop." And suddenly, her voice is wavering and breaking, and she just sounds so sad, and Casey is both utterly bewildered and worried.

"Natalie? Natalie, I--" He turns to Dan. "Dan, you gotta help me out here, what is she talking about?"

Dan just shakes his head, looking as mystified as Casey. "Casey, man, I have no idea." He taps his earpiece. "Natalie, what's going on? Did Casey do something idiotic today that I missed?"

"Casey, please." Now she just sounds weary and defeated. "Just do this one thing for me, and I swear I'll...I'll never steal your pants again."

Frankly, Casey would let Natalie steal his pants every night if it meant he'd never again hear her sound like this. "That's it," he declares, standing up and ripping out his earpiece. He walks quickly over to the control room, and he pulls open the door--

But when he walks inside, it's completely empty.

 

*

Dan's always liked Casey's mom. She's welcoming and warm and funny and is a lot like Casey, right down to the smile.

Her smile, Casey's smile, isn't in evidence now. "The doctors aren't saying much," Marlene says now, her hands folded in her lap. "I know they say no news is good news, but…" Her hands twist together so that the wedding band on her finger is half-hidden. "Well."

Dan rubs her shoulder. "He's going to be just fine," he assures her, and clears his throat.

She looks at him, and whatever she sees makes her face soften. "How are you holding up, Dan?"

Dan almost wants to laugh, but the expression on her face is nothing but compassion, and he can remember meeting her for the first time, having dinner at her house and being invited to come on over whenever he was in town. "I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be asking me that," he says.

She tilts her head and smiles at him gently, and he can see the echoes of Casey in it. "I'm asking anyway."

"I'm doing alright," Dan tells her, and for the first time, he can taste the lie in it.

 

*

_He's in a restaurant with Dana and Dan and Rebecca, and they're halfway through their dishes when Casey realizes—they're on a double-date._

He blinks, looking from Dana to Rebecca, and then he looks at Dan. Dan, who looks happy and relaxed but somehow off, missing the usual—spark to him.

It's the craziest thing in the world, because Casey doesn't remember how he got here, how he asked Dana on this date or exactly when Dan decided to start the whole thing with Rebecca all over again, he doesn't remember any of it, and yet, here he is. Here they are.

"Are you all right, Casey?" Dana asks.

Casey blinks at her, then pastes a smile on. "I'm fine," he says, taking a deep breath. It hurts in his chest for some reason.

Dan, engrossed in conversation with Rebecca, hasn't noticed.

 

*

The shot burns as it goes down his throat.

Dana coughs next to him and sets her shot glass down. "Haven't done this in a while," she says. Dan nods assent. A part of him idly wonders what Abby would think of this if she knew, but he's not planning on telling her. To be fair though, he usually ends up telling her things in their sessions he'd never planned to.

Dana's lips are pressed together tightly, and she's staring off into the distance. Or the wall behind the bartender's head; it's kind of hard to tell the difference.

Maybe Dan's drunker than he thought.

"Charlie asked me yesterday if his dad's going to wake up."

There is a heavy weight on Dan's chest. At least that's what it feels like. "What?"

"He said that no one was telling him what was going on, and he wanted to know," Dana says, not looking at him. She traces the rim of her glass with her index finger and shrugs.

"What'd you tell him?"

She lets out a soft laugh. "I told him that of course his dad's going to wake up, what else could I say, Dan?" She presses her lips together even more tightly, then bursts out, "I punched him today, you know. Casey."

Dan has to blink at that. "You punched a guy in a coma?" That last word is easier said, he finds, when there's alcohol running though his bloodstream. He wonders why he'd never thought of that before.

"Just in the shoulder," Dana says. "I thought it was time to try something new, nothing else has worked—I've prayed, I've held his hand and read to him, I've talked to the doctors, I've looked things up on the Internet," her voice is rising now, "—and none of it is getting him out of that bed, so yes, I decided that a well-aimed punch could do some good."

It's a measure of how drunk he is that Dan's actually following Dana's logic now.

She's staring morosely at her glass again, so Dan figures it's his turn to share something.

"I'm the executor of Casey's will," he tells her. Dana lifts her head and stares at him, and Dan goes on, because he's drunk and because there's nothing else to do. "It's not a surprise or anything, I mean we'd talked about it."

It had taken Dan by complete surprise, and when he finally got what Casey was trying to tell him, he was equal parts pleased and freaked out—pleased, because even though he knew how much Casey trusted him, it was nice to see evidence of it sometimes, and freaked out because Casey was talking about what would happen when he died, and that was something Dan didn't want to think about, ever.

"And there are decisions, you know," Dan goes on, "—except I can't think about any of them, because this isn't...I can't picture—" He can't picture anything except for Casey always being there, the constant in Dan's life, and the only way he has gotten through the last week and a half was by drearily, painfully, moving from one moment to the next, always having to remind himself to breathe, to be strong, to not lose it every time he stared at Casey's empty desk or worked with another substitute on-air.

"I can't do this. I don't know how to do this anymore," he tells Dana, only it's a lie, because he's never known how to do this without Casey.

And Dana's looking at him with such naked sympathy, it reminds him of Marlene and Isaac and Natalie and everyone, and it hurts, why sympathy would hurt so much, Dan doesn't know. "Oh, Danny—" she starts, and Dan has to work at not flinching.

"Don't," he says quickly. "Don't, Casey calls me that, just _don't_—" And now his voice is cracking and he has to rest his head on the table, hide his face away so she won't see.

Her hand rests, almost lighter than air, on the back of his neck, comforting, and Dan doesn't have the strength to pull away.

 

*

_He's sitting in his apartment. That's not the unusual part, the unusual part is that Lisa's sitting next to him, and they're making out. Or rather, trying to, but it's awkward and uncomfortable and Casey just can't relax, there's this odd tension in the room and this too-strong scent of flowers…_

He pulls away at last, there's an odd twinge in his side, his ribs. "Lisa, wait—what's going on?"

She smiles at him, gentle. He hasn't associated the word gentle with Lisa in a very long time. "Nothing," she assures him, and leans in again, but he pulls away even more, getting up off the couch and looking around in alarm. Because something is wrong, something is very wrong, but he can't put his finger on it—

"We're not like this," he tells her suddenly, and it feels true, feels like the most truthful thing in the room right now. "We're not—we don't do this."

Lisa smiles at him, gentle and uncomprehending. "Of course we do, honey."

And that's when he knows something's up, because Lisa wasn't one for nicknames like that, not ever. Her affection was shown, it wasn't told. He looks at his hand and is somehow not surprised to find that there's no ring on it.

Lisa slides gracefully off the couch, comes close to him and winds her arms around his neck. They feel tight, heavy. "Casey," she says.

He tries to move away, and there—there's another twinge in his ribs, and he has no idea what's going on—

And the doorbell rings, and Casey's so relieved at the excuse to pull away from her that he nearly power-walks to the door.

It's Danny.

"Hey, Casey," he says, smiling easily, holding up a six-pack of beer and Cheetos. "Ready for the game?"

"Um, yeah, but—" Casey looks around for Lisa, but when he does--she's gone. Vanished.

Casey knows suddenly that she's no longer there, and he should probably feel less relieved than he does.

He turns back to Danny and smiles. "Yeah, come on in."

 

*

"Did I ever tell you what happened?" He's back in Abby's office, sitting in the same chair, fiddling with his hands in his lap.

"You told me the basics, but you didn't want to go into too much details," Abby responds. "You want to talk about it now?"

Dan nods. "I think--I think I have to, you know? Because—none of it feels quite real anymore. Like I'm sleepwalking, or dreaming maybe."

Abby nods. "Okay. Tell me."

Dan takes a deep breath. "We were at the bar. And Jeremy—he'd just scored us this really great story, right? Had this source who came through—we beat out everybody else. Fox, ESPN...everybody. Huge win for the show." He can remember the euphoria, remembers clapping Jeremy on the back and telling him what a great job he'd done. "So we went out to the bar for drinks, and Jeremy—he got into a contest with Kim, and I don't know if you know this, but Kim's like the drinking champion in the office. She's little, but nobody can touch this girl, and Jeremy knows that, he knew it then, but we were just all so...giddy."

Dan remembers staying in the background with Casey, nursing their beers, bantering, cracking jokes. He can't remember what they talked about though, not a single thing.

"Eventually, Jeremy was drunk. I mean, really drunk. Too drunk to drive home, too drunk to put in a cab because we were pretty sure he'd just end up puking in it, and if you're going to puke somewhere, it might as well be on your own upholstery, right?"

And he can see that just as clearly too, Jeremy's arm thrown around Casey's shoulders, Casey's indulgent, amused smile.

Dan takes a breath, and he says it.

"So Casey decided to drive him home."

He'd like to say that there was more to it than that, that Dan had had some sense of foreboding, had seen a glimpse of the disaster looming, but he hadn't. He'd waved them off with a smile, and that had been it.

That had been it, until he'd gotten that phone call and had rushed to the hospital, breaking fifty traffic laws along the way.

"It's the craziest thing," he says, half to himself. "They were doing all the responsible things. Casey was sober, so he was the one driving. He wasn't speeding, he wasn't being reckless, they did the right, responsible thing, and they got into a car accident anyway."

Dan wasn't there, but he can picture it clear as crystal—the truck slamming into the driver's side, crushed metal and shattered glass and Casey and Jeremy somewhere amist the wreckage. He flashes back to the first time they'd let him into Casey's hospital room, Casey's face almost unrecognizable thanks to the bruises and cuts, and suddenly he can't breathe, he feels claustrophobic.

"I can't talk about this anymore," he says, getting up quickly. Abby gets up as well, looking at him with concern.

"Dan, what is it?"

"I can't—I can't do this, I'm sorry, I just need to get out of here—"

"Why?" Abby presses. "Because it hurts to talk about? Because you think that the only way you can survive this is by not talking about it, by staying in this state of denial about what's really happening? Because if you talk about it, or even think about it for too long, you'll start to remember the other person you loved who got in a car accident and what happened to him, and you'll realize just how afraid you are that history is going to repeat itself again?"

Dan stares at her for a long moment, then says, his voice low and hoarse, "That is a cheap shot."

Abby smiles at him, sad and caring, and tells him, "That's what you pay me for, Dan. To know when to make the cheap shots." She gestures at the chair he just got out of. "Come on. Sit down."

And Dan hasn't got a damned clue why, but for some reason--he does just that. He sits back down.

 

*

_Jeremy pokes his head into the office. "Casey, Dana wants you to—" He does a double-take. "Casey, why aren't you wearing pants?"_

Casey shrugged. "I'm actually not that sure. Something tells me it has to do with your girlfriend, though."

"It usually does, yes," Jeremy agreed, grinning. He and Jeremy have a quick conversation about exactly why what Dana wants to happen in the 40s can't actually happen because it is against all the laws of Nature, Man, and Sports, and Jeremy leaves, promising to talk to Natalie about the pants.

Dan comes in a few minutes later, and he's also without pants. This seems appropriate, since Casey's relatively sure that whatever caused Natalie to take away their pants, Dan had something to do with it. He usually does.

"So," Dan says, sitting down next to Casey on the couch.

"So," Casey parrots back. Dan looks over at him, and there's a...light in his eyes that Casey doesn't quite recognize.

"Do me a favor, Casey," Dan says, and Casey becomes aware that one, Danny's leaning in a lot closer than is strictly necessary, and two, Danny has a hand on Casey's thigh. "Don't freak out," Danny breathes, and then—

—and then—

—and then they're kissing, and Casey gasps—

—for breath, and oh God, his chest hurts like hell, pain coming in bursts every time he takes a ragged breath. His eyes crack open, but they can't take it too long, it's bright, too bright, florescent lighting that hurts his eyes, like he's been in the dark too long and just where the hell is he anyway—and there's strange beeping noises and voices he doesn't know—

He can smell flowers, and when he opens his eyes again, they catch sight of a brightly colored balloon, floating in the corner of the room, half hidden by the flower arrangements and the machines.

"Mr. McCall, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he gasps out, acutely aware that at this particular moment, it feels like the biggest lie he's ever told. He cracks his eyes open again, and asks the only question that really matters. "What the hell happened?"

"You were in an accident, Mr. McCall, but you're going to be fine now. Can you open your eyes for me?"

He does just that, and tries to keep his breathing steady.

 

*

There have been a handful of moments that have left Dan utterly breathless. The day they heard that Sports Night was really going to happen, the first time Casey handed over his tiny, perfect baby son to Dan, telling him to be careful, support the head, and relax. The day Isaac returned to work after the stroke. The day they heard that Sports Night was going to continue. The first time he got kissed by a girl, and the first time he got kissed by a boy. The first time he realized he was in love with Casey.

It says something, he thinks, that the majority of those moments all have something to do with Casey.

"They shaved my head," Casey says mournfully, and Dan can't help it. He laughs for the first time in nearly two weeks.

"Not all of it," Dan points out, glancing at the bandage on the side of Casey's head. "It'll grow back, and besides, we were a little more worried about the bleeding inside your brain than your haircut." He ruffles Casey's hair. "It'll grow back, and if it doesn't, I hear they're doing great things with wigs these days."

"Danny—"

"And hey, I think you could pull off the bald look."

Casey glares at him, but then snorts. "So, what'd I miss?" His tone is light, but Dan can't match it, he can't pretend anymore.

"We missed you," he says, then has to—has to, there isn't any other option—amend that. "I missed you."

He's stroking Casey's hair now, it feels soft and thick underneath his hands. Somewhere in the back of his head, Dan knows this is crazy, but he hasn't felt totally sane for nearly two weeks; he thinks he's allowed a little leeway.

Casey's eyes are soft. "I'm sorry, Danny."

"What for?" Dan asks, his voice flippant. "Not like you asked that guy to run a red light and smash into your car."

"Still—I'm sorry anyway."

It's strange, considering that all Dan's been able to think about is the things he'd say to Casey given the chance, all the things he hasn't been able to say and might never again get the chance to--but they don't really talk all that much. Mostly they just sit there, Dan's hand still resting in Casey's hair.

Finally, despite his efforts at hiding it, it's pretty clear that Casey's wiped. "Don't know why, it's not like I did much besides lie in this bed and dream," he grumbles.

"You dreamed?" Dan asks in curiosity.

Casey yawns. "Pretty sure I dreamed," he says.

"Yeah? What about?"

"You, mostly." Casey's eyes are fluttering shut, and Dan tries to process what Casey just said. "Hey--stick around for a while, okay?"

"Yeah," Dan agrees, settling back in his chair. "Yeah, okay." Maybe Casey's fatigue is catching--he's starting to feel a little sleepy himself. "Just promise me you're going to wake up in the morning."

Casey looks at him and says sincerely, "I promise, Danny."

"Good," Dan says, nodding. "Good." And it is, finally. It really is.

 

*

That night, Casey doesn't dream. And when he wakes up, Dan's still in his chair, mouth half open, fast asleep.

His hand's still tangled in Casey's hair, and Casey has to smile.

All things considered, it's not a bad way to wake up.


End file.
